


A Meal To Remember

by danithemani



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh the Abridged Series, Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Lemon, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Thiefshipping, Yaoi, psychoshipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 16:58:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5424788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danithemani/pseuds/danithemani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bakura awakes to the sound of Marik singing in the shower, only to remember their fight the night before. While at first Marik seems to have no recollection of the event, an unfortunate series of events leads them to rethink their relationship and their mutual love-hatred for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Meal To Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! If you'd like to support me on Patreon, here is a link to my page: https://www.patreon.com/danithemani. I don't post too much on my page, as I like to focus my attention on my writing. I appreciate all the comments, kudos, and cash of my beloved readers. Thanks so much!

It was another gloomy day in the tomb for Marik and Bakura. Hot, humid, and relentlessly dusty, their home drove Marik to take cold showers at least twice a day. The close quarters and single bathroom lead to some - touchy - situations.

  
“LET’S TAKE HIS LEATHER PANTS!"

  
Marik must be awake, Bakura thought. How anyone could be a morning person, especially when you couldn’t tell night from day? He yawned deeply and rubbed his eyes, blinking awake as he remembered the moments of slumber before. Bakura woke up from a perfectly lovely dream involving a creatively placed Millennium Rod… and this was his reality? A sexless existence with the only man on earth’s whose estrogen levels could compete with Pegasus. It wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t so oblivious to the true meaning of evil, what with his plans to ruin sock drawers and his incessant chattering.

  
“I’M GETTING READY, MY LEGS HAVE BEEN WAXED!”

  
Bakura rolled onto his stomach with a lamenting sigh, tearing a corner of his fitted - and before you ask, yes, Egyptian cotton - sheet off the king size bed. He muffled his ears with a pillow to cover Marik’s pitiful attempts at singing. That might have been the only unattractive feature about him. Their days would go so much better if Marik did much less talking, or at least singing. If you could call it that.

 

“WE WANT YOUR PANTS, AND WE WANT OUR REVENGE!”

  
The bed, an ancient stone slab with an expensive memory foam mattress, was the only piece of furniture in Bakura’s room, sans a solitary dresser against a cold stone wall. Marik had installed modern commodities like central cooling and electricity some time ago, so the tomb was as bright as a tomb could get. But Ra forbid they buy some wallpaper. If only Marik wasn't such a control freak.

  
“WE WANT YOUR PANTS, AND WE’RE REALLY JUST FRIENDS!”

  
They had got into a bit of a disagreement the night before and it hadn't ended well for either party. Bakura had offered a few harsh words, and Melvin, in turn, gave him a little internal bleeding. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, really. Playing dead works fairly well with Melvin; he only had interest in torturing live things. Consequently, that was the same reason he remained a vegetarian.

  
“I LIKE THESE SILLY NOISES!”

  
It all started when Bakura tried to find the front door without telling Marik. Just a quick drink on a boring evening, a simple nightcap. Marik had fallen asleep watching The Golden Girls with a yaoi manga over his nose, and Bakura attempted to wander towards the top of the chamber. The tomb had endless corridors and a confusing tunnel system designed to keep the Tomb Guardians inside and the thieves out; after the age of the pharaohs had passed, it achieved just the opposite. Marik left whenever he wished, and the thief Bakura could never find his way out. If they had rented a London flat like Bakura had insisted, they’d never be in this mess. Can’t teach an old wacko new tricks, I suppose. Whenever he was found it was by Marik’s vicious alter Melvin, enraged because at the thought of Bakura trying to escape into the outside world without his permission. It was a stupid mistake, and Bakura knew it - but by gods he needed a drink!

  
“WE'VE GOT HIS LEATHER PANTS!”

  
Shower must be over, Bakura thought. He heard the water stop and Marik began to hum, and the noise echoed down the halls to Bakura’s room. Maybe he could just rest his eyes for a minute, I mean it did take awhile to put on all that makeup, even with Marik’s perfect bronze skin. There was moisturizer with SPF, a layer of foundation, something that could only be to pluck your eyes out to clean behind them, and his signature eyeliner. It was worth it in the end, though. He was just so… hot. Bakura's thoughts were snatched away from him as he saw Marik strut in, wearing only a pristinely bleached white towel around his waist. Without so much as a nod hello, the blonde teenager opened Bakura’s dresser drawer and grabbed one of his t-shirts. His hair was in a ruffled mess on the top of his head, and water was still dripping down his back, rolling over his scars and tracing every strong muscle.

  
“Don't be so gay Bakura,” Marik said in his usual shrill voice, draping the towel over the dresser he was facing to expose his lower half.

  
“I'm gay?” Bakura scoffed, “You just stripped naked in front of me! And now you're wearing my shirt.” Why does he do this to me, Bakura thought.

  
“Duh, that’s why I stripped naked in front of you, to put on a t-shirt so you wouldn't be so GAY!” Marik continued to whine. “It was for our partnership, you will get too easily distracted by my sexy midriff! My level of evil requires your full attention!” Bakura rolled his eyes and looked Marik up and down.

  
“Oh, you definitely have my full attention,” He smirked, still laying in bed. He had propped himself on his elbows when he saw Marik walk in, hoping to catch a glance at, well, his midriff. Now that the towel was off, everything below his tight waist was exposed, making his view even better than he could have expected. Bakura once again got lost in the sight of Marik’s beautiful body, while he continued to show an increasing denial for his obvious homosexuality with another one of his tireless rants.

  
“A man can like how another man smells and want to wear his clothes without it reflecting any part of his sexuality! That is completely normal, Bakura, there is nothing gay about two men sharing clothes! Besides, all of mine showcase my gorgeous midriff, I had no choice to wear your clothes. It is completely out of my control!” Marik insisted, putting his hands on his hips, taking a few steps toward the bed.

  
“You do know, you don’t have anything covering your completely heterosexual erection, right Marik?” Bakura interrupted, completely disinterested in anything Marik had to say. Marik blushed and forced a repulsed expression on his face, but made no attempt to hide his increasingly large member.

  
“It is early in the morning and this is a completely normal part of bodily functions! What about you, look you have one too!” Marik answered accusingly, staring mouth open at the bulge in Bakura’s sheets.”  
“Of course I do, a gay man is standing naked in front of me. Give me a reason not too,” Bakura added slyly, not taking his eyes off Marik.

  
“I’m not naked - I mean gay! I-I am neither of those things!” Marik stammered while Bakura’s head tilted back in laughter. “I do not have time for your tomfoolery today, Bakura! Get your lazy butt out of bed and come eat breakfast, there is evil to do!” Marik yelled, face flushed and frantic as he darted out of the room, and suddenly stopped at the door frame.

  
Bakura’s eyes were clouded with laugh-induced tears as he heard a cape rustle. He opened his eyes tried to make out the tall figure standing before him, and then he spoke again. Marik’s voice grew deeper and cracked, “Hurry Florence, we have souls to torture - one of them might be yours.” Before Bakura could blink Marik was out of his room and he was left behind with only a chill on his spine. _Please_ , Bakura pleaded silently with the gods, _let that just be a cold._

**Author's Note:**

> This work is currently dead and will not be worked on in the foreseeable future.


End file.
